Super Secret Trip of Awesome

You know what I had planned last weekend? Nothing. Enter Grace, Holly, Biddy and Super Jules and their  talk of their #SSTOA cluttering up my twitter stream. Being the inquisitive person that I am,  I finally found they had chosen San Diego for a Super Secret Trip of Awesome. Y'all are going to San Diego for the weekend?  Do I want to come hang for the weekend? No. I can't.  Because I had shit (read: work) to do.

BUT. I *can* crash one day of your super secret trip.

Hey there! I crash your party; I sleep on your couch.

But at least I brought Rum. (Bacardi Peach Red). Because what kind of party crasher shows up empty handed?

Stories of the strangest mani/pedi evar can be found here. Ridiculous anthropological (is that even a word?) studies of douchebags are here, and random events here and even here.

W.T.F?!*

What can I possibly add to describe how awesome this super secret trip was? I could talk about how we all piled into a cab like college kids in a phone booth and hid SuperJules AS COPS WATCHED US. Or about how even though SuperJules couldn't have been any more precise, taxi cab drivers do not understand her. It's like she was speaking another language. One nobody understood.

Is that why she was so angry?*

OR even how, after dinner my food started attacking my innards and made me leave the douchetastic outing before my food ejected itself from my stomach, which it was most definitely was going to do before my night was over(damn you, you oversensitive stupid tummy).

Why was this dude trying to put me in a headlock?*

And how cute Biddy was worrying about me going back to the condo solo. OR? About the even more super secret field trip as we got lost on the way to the airport. (You know what's really awesome? Being a Marine's wife and therefore being able to get on ANY BASE IN THE COUNTRY) AND I came home with a bottle of Vodka, and (yo, ho ho) TWO bottles of Rum.

But you know, really? It was just a bunch of girls having some drinks*.

*these photos stolen from Grace and/or Biddy.

An extra kick in the pants

Thursday I decided that I cannot live in my house unless I change my cat litter RIGHT. NOW. So even though I had come straight home and put on my pajama pants, I threw on some tennis shoes and went over to the Target. My cousin, D, who just happened to be at my house and needed weights for some boot camp program she was starting on Monday decided to ride shotgun.

Since I had decided that the only thing I was picking up from the Target was kitty litter, I didn't even grab a cart. We ran by the workout section grabbed some 3 lb weights and walked over to the pet section. We find a 35 lb bucket of cat litter on sale. And we attempt to carry it to the register.* Holy shit, y'all that's heavy. First, we both hold the handle and try to drag it to the register. We get pretty far until we have to put it down because we can't laugh hysterically AND carry almost 40 pounds because I can't even believe how ri-damn-diculous it is that cat litter is so fucking heavy and I'm not sure how well THIS plan was thought out and where the fuck is that random empty cart that has been abandoned by some jackass when you really need one as opposed to when it's just in your way screwing up your shopping experience?

Holy Crap, this is heavy.

In the end, D just dragged the cat litter to the register and we snagged an empty cart while we were in line because there was no way we were gonna carry that shit to the car.

And as we were wrestling it in the car, I said *this* is about how much weight I want to lose.(30 pounds all told. But still) OMFG is THIS what thirty pounds feels like ON MY BODY?! Aaand...cue the screaming on the inside.

So even though I've been hitting the gym AND bringing my mostly healthy lunch, I am taking the time to thank Tidy Cats Cat Litter for reminding me why I am doing all of this: Because 30ish pounds is heavier than a motherfucker and picturing that on my ass has given me MORE motivation that I ever needed to get rid of it.


*Also, I would like to pat myself on the back for entering Target and *only* getting the thing that I came in there for, even though they've got bathing suits and the first season of Glee and BOOKS! All kinds of books! Because that is probably the first time I've done that in years.

Miscellaneous Meanderings

I'd like to say that I've been busy. But really? I haven't. I just haven't been blogging. Oh, hello...I'm lazy. I guess, to be fair, The Man spent all of last week in the hospital, so I was alternately quietly freaking out, hanging out in his hospital room, working Luckily...I work at a hospital. So I would take my "15 minute break" (that was really closer to 30 but who's counting because a) my boss doesn't pay me too much attention and b) I wish somebody WOULD act like they don't understand me spending my free -and some not so free- time with my husband) in his hospital room.

I had plenty of time to blog especially since I was just sitting there staring at him sleep. But really I was just sitting there thinking. Of what, you wonder? Funny you should ask.

I was thinking that I need to hide my SIL's status update on FaceBook. I mean, seriously? Your status update says that Tears are nothing but LIQUID prayers...I am clearly not deep enough appreciate that. And your updates are more depressing than they are uplifting, if that is in fact what you're going for. Either way, I can't take it and I think I just need to make sure I can no longer see your depressing ass I AM GOING THROUGH A THANG-type status updates.

And since it wouldn't be in my best interest to unfriend "in-laws" who I added in a moment of panic because how do you say no to a perfect stranger who is related to me by marriage? Even though they know they don't know me because THEY live in Florida and have never been to California, but a) I have the same last name and b) I'm a friend of a relative that you *DO* know so you sent a friend request...I'm hiding you too. Because I don't know you. Or your status updates are super annoying and/or hypocritical. Please don't preach to me in one status update and cuss out somebody in the next one. Just...stop.
Speaking of cleaning house...I cleaned my house. And now my hands are peeling so bad that I ...well, I can't think of anything gross enough to describe what they look like except shedding snakes and I like to think that I'm LOSING weight and not gaining so much that I had to grow out of my skin... So let's just say that I'm taking this as a sign I should stop cleaning.

Related to absolutely nothing in the post, but still on my mind...is this cake. My girl friend went to a baby shower where they served this cake:

Pretty right? I mean, I'll admit it took serious skill to create this masterpiece...but uhh.. there's no way I'd be able to eat that cake without being grossed out. Yeah, yeah... I know it's just cake. But it immediately made me think of that Hunter's Souffle on True Blood.. 'Member? (Because I'm just going to ASSUME that you all were watching True Blood, because WHO is not watching True Blood) No, you don't 'member?

Yes. I know that I'm crazy. Still, though. I advised her to pass on the cake.

Okay, that's all I got. So, ummm... please enjoy. But stay away from the baby cakes.

The post where I prove that I am KLASS-AY

Yeah, I really am.

Friday I took The Man to the ESPN zone for drinks with my girlfriends. He LOVES to hang out with them, and he's been the only guy so often that we gave him the nickname "Mr. Bitches" (and I mean that in the least disrespectful way possible. Heh.)

ANYWAYS, we watched the Laker slaughter game against the Clippers (I don't really NEED to say more do I? Fine, I'll say it: Free Tacos!). We decided to leave about 3 minutes before the game ended because a) The Clips were NOT going to make a come back and b) have you ever braved Staple Center traffic? Yeah...no. You don't want to. Trust me.

Have I ever mentioned my ever shrinking bladder? And how I ALWAYS have to pee? Yeah, I do. And so, even though I had JUST WENT...by the time we got to the parking lot, I had to go again. And so...I tell The Man that I have to pee. Again. "Well, you can't go right here," he says...

Except, I can. Because as coincidence would have it, I'd been carrying around one of my Christmas gifts from my cousin. A go-girl. A gift which, I might add, I have been totally excited to use since I got it. I had originally been planning to use it for my next concert because one time I went to a concert, I chose peeing in a cup, to getting in the bathroom line. Srsly.

But he wouldn't let me. Something about us only being 10 minutes from the house...blah blah blah...Why can't I just hold it...yakety smakety...I mean, I was even wearing a SKIRT for goodness sake! It would have been super-easy. I was all excited because it was the PERFECT TIME TO TRY IT OUT!

Mr. Spoil-All-My-Fun shoved me in the car, and made me hold it until I got home.

And on the way home, I told him that if I could have a penis for a day I would get head (because really? I need to understand why men act like they can't live without blowjobs AND why you can pretty much bring a man to his knees by getting on yours) and I would write my name on the ground. Heh.

Well. I'll never know know what it's like to get a blow job, but I did learn what it was like to pee standing up.

What? Did you REALLY think I wasn't going to use it anyways? I mean, it was the PRINCIPLE. Also, it's the best thing ever, and I called up my sister AND my cousin and told the whole world how awesome it was.

Please believe that I washed it and wrestled it back into it's carrying case this morning, and I'm putting it BACK in my purse. Because even though I am PLANNING to use this for the next concert venue with shitty bathrooms, I may have another PERFECT OPPORTUNITY...and I wouldn't want to be caught with my pants down, now would I?

What I do when I miss phone calls

...from people who are calling me from another freakin' country.

I send e-mails.

Hey, Girlie!

1. Missed you, again! Drat. I tried to pick up my phone and hit END instead of TALK, and since you didn’t call back….
2. I went to my cousin's birthday dinner where this happened.
3. In other news, I’m a CONE and my sister, an hourglass (duh.)
4. I guess the working out is working because
• I look slimmer in my clothes, but
• Because I’m PMS’ing I’ve been eating lots of junk all weekend and so,
• The numbers on the scale have NOT moved at all, except up, BUT
• I’m sure at the end of my cycle, they will have gone down significantly
5. Today is The Man's Bday, so I “wished him a happy birthday” instead of going to the gym, which also made me late for work. 
6. I went to Mo’s house this weekend, where she gave the Brat a shit ton of clothes from her niece who apparently only wears things once or twice before moving on to new clothes.
• Also WTF is up with skirts so tiny that I'm pretty sure they cover NOTHING?! If you need to wear leggings under them to make sure your twat isn't being exposed, what you really need is a LONGER SKIRT. #justsayin
• And yes, you know I vetoed any item that made the baby's ass hang out.
• Not that I had to because Mo was already all "ix-nay on the ooty-bay orts-shay"
7. While I was there I realized the Brat is REALLY TINY because after eating 4 slices of pizza and mojo potatoes, she tried on a pair of size 0 shorts OVER HER JEANS  and they fit (I also realized that I hate Brat a little bit…LOL).

Soo, how was your weekend? How's the hubs? Did he get to see the Ravens get with the Pats?

And yes, I really did send out this e-mail (added a few things, but she'll visit here and she'll recognize her e-mail). So. How was YOUR weekend? Do anything interesting?

One small step

I am horrible at making resolutions. I think maybe it has a lot to do with expectations. Yeah, I want to lose weight this year. Do I want to say that I’ve only got 12 months to do it? Nope. I’ll even tell you why: Because I get all intimidated… like that time I had a 64oz water bottle. That’s how much water you’re supposed to drink a day, BUT if I put it all in one big bottle like that, I’ll never finish it. HOWEVER, if I use a smaller water bottle…say…32 oz..I’ll probably refill it more than once. Baby steps, my friends. Don’t underestimate them.




I need to look at it in terms of what I need to do to accomplish my goals. (GOALS. Not RESOLUTIONS) Plans, and project management. Should be easy enough, I do plenty of that on the job, I should be able to apply to my life, right? I may not be able to make a resolution, but I can make a "To Do" list like a motherfucker.


My Steps?


Buying more veggies and fresh fruit --> healthier eating -->healthier me


Signing up for couch to 5K program --> going to the gym more often (+ healthier eating) -->losing weight
(should I apologize NOW for what is sure to be random blogging about how big my ass has gotten and/or OMG, why am I so out of breath on the treadmill and/or My legs, I can’t feel them?)


Returning to Church -->improving myself spiritually (in theory. NO, I’m not saying *YOU* have to attend Church to be spiritual, I’m saying that *I* attend church to be fed spiritually, and at least *that* is the kind of feeding that won’t make you fat. ALSO? Will this mean I can’t say “fuck” anymore?)--> not going to hell


Make a budget so that I can stop spending so much G.D. money on shit I don’t need or at least see WTF it's going -->more money to pay for bills --> less debt --> more money to save --> money to buy a house Added bonus? More money in my pocket!


I’m a work in progress. My baby steps will turn into full fledged steps. Just picture me as Rocky and I’m running up those steps and…. Ah, hell…this is gonna be me:

(Except I'd be wearing nicer work out clothes, and I don't have a dog, also it doesn't snow here, but you get the general idea, right?)

And on that, I am resolute.

Not so much looking fondly back as I am looking forward expectingly

I mean, not to sound ungrateful...because it could have been so much worse, I could have been stabbed with a rusty splinter, or hit by a car, or hell.. even robbed at gun point...none of which happened to ME, but you know what? This year pretty much sucked big fat hairy ones, and I would like to go on the record as saying Fuck you, 2009. Fuck you right in the ass.

On one hand, I got a big ol' raise because my jackass boss screwed me over last year, The Man finally retired from the Marine Corps, and I returned to school and am *this close* to graduating, I also went to Vegas a ridiculous amount of times, and met some of my blogger/twitter friends IRL.

On the other hand, I went to war with The Man over a "friend's" relationship, only to have her stab me in the back and force me to kick her ass out of my life (like Mary J. says no.more.drama). The Man, who finally retired from the Marine Corps has no idea what he wants to do with his life, is home 24/7 - which I've never had to deal with before. I returned to school and couldn't really afford it AND I can't use his GI Bill AND can only get a few dollars if he were permanently, totally disabled, or dead (really?! WTF VA?), and along with my raise came MORE WORK while my other fuckwit co-worker cries about how busy he is while spending most of his day trying to beat his friend's bejeweled score of one hundred million, and to top it all off, I found my neighbor whom I've known for freakin' 18 years and called my Auntie, dead and I JUST RECENTLY stopped crying every time I look at her house, which coincidentally faces mine, so every time I walk out of my front door, I see HER front door.

And this just the stuff that happened to ME. Not close friends who just found out their father has cancer, or whose sister had a heart attack, or have been laid off for the better part of 2009 and may possibly lose their house.

I'm not really sure who the fuck I pissed off in 2008 to make this year so relentlessly depressing. Oh wait, NOBODY - because last year I tore my Achilles and was off work for 3 months, while my jackass boss fucked up my paperwork, so I didn't get my disability money AND my husband lost his grandmother AND one of my best friends moved to freaking JAPAN - I actually was thinking that 2009 was gonna be my year because of how much 2008 sucked. Fooled my fucking ass. 2009, you pretty much sucked harder than 2008, and I didn't even think that was possible.

So I'm saying all that to say, so long 2009. Don't let the door knob hit you on the way out. It's been real, it's been fun, but it has NOT been real fun. Don't keep in touch, don't send me an e-mail to see how I'm doing now that you've moved on, in fact let's just pretend that we never met, hm?

And 2010? I've got my eye on you. I'm expecting rainbows and unicorns and a bunch of other really cool shit to happen this year. In fact, I refuse to accept anything less, so consider this a warning.

I'm ready for the new year and it's going to be motherfuckingfabulous. Or else.